


Incentive is Everything

by turtlesparadise



Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Bombs, Trainee, Turks - Freeform, mentor and trainee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtlesparadise/pseuds/turtlesparadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Turks are suddenly fewer in numbers - temporarily - due to some being out with injuries, and the others are scrambling to provide coverage for their comrades on various missions.  It falls to Legend to train the newest recruit, a fresh-faced teen from Bone Village whose specialty is the nunchucks.  Legend's planned training session is not exactly pulled from the Turks' training manual, and if it backfires, he will have a lot to answer for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incentive is Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwoCatsTailoring](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/gifts).



 

The Turks were suddenly fewer in numbers due to several having been injured in the line of duty, temporarily on the disabled list. In two other instances, Turks had paid the ultimate price in fulfilling their duties…with their lives. Things had become desperate enough where Veld had even seen fit to re-instate Zed, also known as the Legend. This reinstatement was much to the chagrin of Tseng, who did not care for the senior Turks' devil-may-care attitude, and insistence upon doing things his own way.

 _Too much like Reno_ , Tseng thought. _A good Turk, but he is too full of himself, too impulsive, and too cocky_. It was obvious how much of Legend's influence had rubbed off upon Reno and in Tseng's view, it was a bad influence. Those two, Reno and Zed - they were not wired the way Tseng was. Some of it, anyway. Tseng couldn't deny however, that Zed was good at what he did - _damned_ good. And he wasn't afraid to let everyone know it, either.

"We need more bodies in here, Tseng," Veld informed his second-in-command. "Too many on the DL right now, and we are stretched thin as it is. I have one new recruit coming in on a flight tomorrow - " The Commander leaned back into his desk chair, tapping his clipboard with his index finger, thumbing through a roster of names. "Ah. Our newest arrival, from Bone Village. Reno recruited him. He's due to arrive tomorrow for orientation and training."

"Name?" Tseng had been idly swirling the dregs of his tea, staring into the cup before taking the last sip. It was cold by now, and bitter, but he swallowed it anyway with a grimace.

"Jeremiah Lane. Son of Murtagh Lane - "

"Lane...I've heard that name before," Tseng murmured, a small frown crinkling his impeccable brow as he tried to recall. "...Financier?" Perhaps he was on the board of Trustees; Tseng knew he'd heard the name dropped before, probably by the President, though now his mind was trying to remember where, and in what context he'd heard it.

"Media mogul and venture capitalist," Veld corrected. "He has several fingers in several pies. Owns Shinra News Network, for one."

"I thought we owned that?" Tseng's eyebrows rose quizzically, and Veld chuckled dryly.

"We own a _share_ ," Veld corrected. "Murtagh is the majority shareholder, so he controls the news."

"Well, Shinra still has _some_ degree of control, Veld," Tseng argued. He wasn't about to concede his point completely, and Veld knew it.

"Fair enough," Veld replied. "Anyway...about the new kid, Jeremiah. He arrives tonight, but tomorrow you and I have our own mission on the docket, so I'll assign him to an alternate trainer. Reno and Rude are both in Gongaga, so we are working with a skeleton crew back here in Midgar."

"Alternate?" Tseng echoed, feeling somewhat fearful of the answer. He frowned as he looked to his Commander, awaiting his reply.

"I'm assigning Legend….he can handle it. He mentored Reno, after all."

Tseng groaned audibly. "Yes, and that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

* * *

 

Legend, better known to the rest of the world as Zed - though that was not his real name either -  was soaking in the hot tub on his balcony with his latest bikini-clad flavor of the month when he got the call from Veld. "Typical piss-poor timing from the boss," the Legend muttered to his companion ruefully, smiling as he gave her a quick kiss before stepping out of the hot tub, reaching for his PHS. The cool night breeze rolling through was a shocking yet pleasant contrast against the steamy warmth of Zed's skin.

"Commander," Zed intoned drolly, putting a finger to his lips as his hot-tub companion began to protest, begging him to return to her. "What can I do for you? It's rather late." It was not a complaint but an observation; Zed would, of course, report for duty with no questions asked, no matter what hour day or night Veld needed him.

"Tomorrow, hm..." Zed pretended to agonize over this for a moment, grinning. "Yeah, my schedule's clear tomorrow. I'll be there." He disconnected the call without another word to Veld, tossing the PHS onto a nearby beach towel before returning to the scalding comfort of the hot tub.

"So...where were we, darlin' ?" Zed murmured, putting an arm around the female next to him, placing a soft kiss upon her bare shoulder. His other hand slipped around the woman's waist as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

She opened her mouth to reply, but her words were muffled as Zed's lips were suddenly upon hers in a warm kiss.

"Mmm," the woman murmured finally, smiling as she broke the kiss briefly.. "I think right about...there."

 

* * *

 

The flight from Bone Village to Midgar was long yet uneventful and Jeremiah Lane, newly recruited into the Turks, was bouncing on the balls of his feet until one of the infantry accompanying him on the cargo plane gruffly cautioned him to _sit the hell down_ and _buckle up_.

Jeremiah was undeterred by the less-than-friendly reception he'd received thus far on the flight; Shinra's infantry weren't exactly known for their sunny dispositions, and nothing was going to get the new recruit down anyway. He finally had a way out of the trap of the family business; Murtagh Lane had been grooming his son all of their lives to follow in his footsteps as the richest media mogul on the Planet. Murtagh and his wife had two children - a boy, and a girl.

The Lane family made their home in Bone Village, though Murtagh kept offices in all of the major cities; Midgar, Costa, Junon, and one in Wutai. Murtagh somewhat resented his wife for wanting to live so far away from the city, but one thing Mavis Lane had been very clear about was her desire to raise her son and daughter away from the temptations of the city.

Jeremiah knew this too, his mother tried unsuccessfully to shelter him from the 'big bad world,' but the boy's unbridled curiosity could not be contained. He wanted to see it all; from the big cities to the small mountain villages, there was a whole _world_ out there and he wanted to see and experience all of it. Murtagh often let his children travel with him to his office in Midgar, and the city life both excited and fascinated Nooch.

He loved it all, he loved the wide open spaces of the countryside outside of Kalm; the rolling hills and clear springs of Wutai; the steep mountain ranges of Nibelheim. And he knew early on that life behind a desk, working in one of his father's conglomerates as a yes-man, was not the life he wanted.

When the Turks came around Bone Village just weeks before scoping out the locals for possible recruits, Jeremiah eagerly jumped at the chance, overhearing the butler and the maid whispering about the men in dark suits who were wandering around the town and what they were doing there. Becoming a Turk would fulfill Jeremiah's wildest dreams. It would be a way out of a life he did not really want. He quickly grabbed his nunchucks as he sprinted out the door - martial arts had been a part of his life since he was just a toddler, and he continually kept up with his lessons - and decided he would do anything he could to convince the recruiter he had what it took to be a Turk.

As he settled back down in his seat, trying to contain his excitement, Jeremiah smiled as he recalled that day with the Turks recruiter, barely three weeks prior. Reno had been the recruiter sent to Bone Village that day, and the eager teen had bounded over to his makeshift office eagerly, ready to impress. By superficial appearance alone, Reno was anything but impressed with this potential recruit. It was perhaps an unfair assumption on his part to pre-judge the kid like that, but Reno knew very well whose family Jeremiah hailed from. _Typical rich kid, bored, looking for something to do_ , Reno thought as he sized the petite-framed teen up.

"Look, kid...don't waste my time." Reno's tone was flat, bored. He'd seen twenty potentials that day, and only two of those Reno felt were Turk material. He didn't quite understand this push to recruit Turks actively like this; generally, the Turks found their new recruits by happenstance, not through recruitment and sign-ups. "I know who your family is, so why would you want to join the Turks anyway? Aren't you going into the family business?"

"Because I know I've got what it takes to be a Turk!" Jeremiah replied brightly. Reno suppressed a loud groan. This kid was too eager, too chipper, the very type of thing he hated. Generally, Reno was all for potential recruits showing _some_ enthusiasm, but Reno had a feeling that this bright-eyed, happy-slappy shit would get old, and fast. He sighed, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his inside jacket pocket, slipping one in between his lips and lighting it. Reno leaned back in his chair, studying the blond teen. Baby-faced, a pretty boy, not exactly what Reno had in his mind's eye when he pictured a Turk; though logically, Reno realized that Turks really did come from all walks of life.

But not this kid. Not some spoiled, born-with-a-silver-spoon in his mouth pretty boy, Reno had no time for _that_. It was hard enough dealing with Rufus Shinra, who thought the world owed him everything, that the Turks owed him even _more_ , and Rufus certainly wasn't shy about letting his opinions be known.

"And I have no interest in the family business," Jeremiah argued, sticking his chin out stubbornly. The kid had determination, Reno did admire that much about him. But it had been a long day, and Reno was ready to head back to the Inn, have a few beers, watch some television, and maybe jerk himself off to sleep. There was nothing else to do in Bone Village, unless you were into fossils and archaeology.

"Forget it," Reno said rudely, closing shut his laptop. "We don't need any more recruits - " A flash of red and black filled his field of vision in a blur, and Reno's eyes widened as the cigarette he was smoking was knocked clean out of his mouth.

"What the hell - !"

"I told you, I've got what it takes!" the teen shouted impudently. He half-expected the recruiter to spin on his heel and deck him, and Jeremiah figured he might even deserve that fate after the stunt he'd pulled. But his stubbornness would not allow him to _not_ have the last word.

"Unbelievable," Reno muttered, shaking his head. He stared at the kid, grimacing, and the kid didn't even flinch. Setting his laptop back down on the table, Reno folded his arms across his chest and grinned.

"So...you want to be a Turk, huh? Tell me why you want it so bad, huh?" Okay, maybe he'd give this kid a listen. He wasn't sure whether to be pissed at him for destroying a barely-smoked cigarette, or impressed at his incredible speed and aim. His thoughts were now tending toward the latter.

"Because...it's what I want to do," Jeremiah's voice went softer, but was still unwavering. Pale blue eyes regarded Reno levelly, and he continued. "I know what you must be thinking. My father's one of the most powerful men in the world, and I'm just some kid looking for a distraction."

Reno grinned, feeling a mite guilty. "Yeah...you got me. That is pretty much what I was thinking. I didn't realize you were a whiz with the nunchucks, though. I've never seen anyone use 'em that fast. Do that again, yeah? Um - just not near my _face_ ," he corrected quickly.

The teen's response was instant and enthusiastic; he snapped the nunchucks quickly in front of him, whipping them back and forth around his body with lightning speed. Reno grinned and grabbed his EMR, being sure to shut the voltage off. He wanted to spar with this kid, who had some moves unlike anything he'd ever seen before. _The only one I've seen move faster than this...is Legend,_ Reno mused.

"All right, kid. Let's spar," Reno spat on the ground and crouched back, taking a defensive stance, arms raised, eyes bright and focused. _Now we're talking. Gonna see what this kid's made of -_

"So...Jeremiah, is it? My name's Reno, by the way." Reno began an easy banter with the teen, one of the tactics the Turk often employed to get others to let their guard down. This recruit was quick on his feet, but Reno was certain he could disarm him and get the upper hand just by talking. He gave a few parries with his EMR, which the kid deflected easily with a few lightning-fast swoops of the nunchucks.

"Nice to meet you, Reno! Yeah, that's my name, but...nobody calls me that!" Jeremiah shot back, grinning. "Just….call me Nooch!"

"Nooch, huh?" Reno cracked a smirk. "Okay, then. I won't _ask_." Reno's leg shot out in a roundhouse kick, aiming for Nooch's pretty-boy face. He didn't plan on roughing him up _much_ , he just wanted to catch him off guard and test his reflexes. The attack was quickly halted when the teen ducked, flinging himself into a windmill kick; coming around, he caught Reno square in the chest with his heel.

"Where on Gaia….did you learn a flying windmill kick like that?" Reno's look was incredulous, and Nooch beamed with pride.

"I train with Zangan, sir!" the recruit replied proudly. "I've been practicing martial arts since I was three years old."

"No shit?" Reno grinned, and extended a gloved hand toward Nooch, pulling his into a firm handshake. "Well….Nooch…I guess you _do_ have what it takes. I'd like to see more, anyway, and I am pretty sure the Director will too. I'm going to give you a chance….welcome aboard. Probationary status to start for the first one hundred and twenty days, that's the rules – if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out, ya know?" He gave his shoulders an indifferent shrug, and clapped Nooch on the back in a congratulatory fashion.

"We'll send a military transport out to get ya in three weeks' time," Reno informed the newest recruit, re-holstering his EMR as he prepared to go. "You'll be training with one of our senior Turks to start, might be me, might be someone else. Whoever's around...missions come up last minute sometimes, yeah? One more thing," Reno suddenly seemed to think of something.

"Yes, sir?" Nooch's eyes were bright, not breaking eye contact with Reno one bit. He was awed by the flashy redhead with his electrified stick, and a bit curious as to this particular Turks unkempt appearance. As much as Nooch had admired the very recognizable Turk uniform, he had to wonder why Reno was the _only_ Turk he'd ever encountered that did not wear the requisite tie; nor did he tuck his shirt in or wear a belt like any of the other Turks he'd ever seen patrolling Bone Village, or the ones he'd seen policing the various Sectors in Midgar. Nooch determined then and there that he would wear the tie, and every other minute component of the Turks uniform, down to the cufflinks – proudly.

"Just curious….what the hell kind of name is Nooch, anyway?" Reno asked.

 _And what kind of name is Reno?_ He thought a bit snarkily, but wisely did not utter aloud.  "Oh! That," the teen replied, chuckling. "When I was a kid…I couldn't pronounce _nunchucks_. So it turned into Nooch…and that's been my nickname ever since!"

"Ah…cool," Reno replied, shrugging his shoulders a bit to work the kinks out of them. Damn, that little sparring session had been a nice wake-up for various groups of muscles that hadn't been exercised lately.  "Kind of funny, that. The way the Turks operate, y'see – a lot of times your weapon or area of expertise ends up being your code name. So…you'd be Nunchaku either way, yeah?"

"Perfect, then!" Nooch grinned widely, wanting to launch himself at the recruiter and give him a huge bear hug, but somehow he restrained himself. "So…what's your area of expertise then, sir? And is Reno your real name or a _code_ name?" His brows knit together in a puzzled fashion.

"My area of expertise is Absolutely Fucking Everything," Reno replied, chuckling. "And…to answer your question? That information's given out on a need-to-know basis."

"Oh?" Nooch 's face was expectant, awaiting Reno's answer.

Reno laughed, hoisting his mag-rod over his shoulder.

"And you…. _don't need to know_."

"Aw, man!" Nooch complained, and Reno laughed - it was the answer he always gave to the recruits whenever they asked about his real name.

* * *

 

Nooch was a ball of energy even as the transport landed at its final destination, the Junon Airfield. From there it would be another ride, this time in a Humvee, the Shinra infantry assigned as his escort bringing him directly to ShinRa Headquarters in Midgar.

The Shinra receptionist greeted Nooch upon his arrival and began processing him, getting his ID card and personnel forms completed. Next he was measured for his suit at the in-house tailor which left the newest Turk bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

"How soon will I get my new suit?" Nooch asked, ready to come out of his skin, he was thrilled to finally put on the Turks jacket – even though it was quickly removed by the tailor, once he'd pinned the sleeves.

The tailor, a tired looking middle-aged man gave the eager recruit a half-smile. "About an hour, give or take. The suit'll probably be upstairs before you are," the man added, chuckling.

"All right! I can't wait! Woo-hoo!" Nooch whooped loudly, and the harried-looking tailor gave a woeful sigh at the outburst.

"Newbies..." the old man muttered, grateful when the assistant came to fetch him again.

Nooch was quickly shuffled off again by the receptionist immediately following the fitting, this time for fingerprinting, DNA sampling, a physical examination, immunizations, and finally - weapons assignment. He received several sets of high-quality nunchucks, tactical vest a handgun, mag-light, a taser, and a mastered materia kit. Everything was housed in an oversized duffel bag that dwarfed the diminutive teen.

"Follow me, please!" The receptionist snapped her fingers in the air, walking quickly down the corridor as Nooch followed along, taking care not to wipe out one of the oversized ficus plants with his swinging duffel bag.

"Whoa…." Nooch looked around wide-eyed as he stepped into the glass elevator. He looked at the huge numbered panel, listing all the floors in the building, from the Lobby all the way up to the 70th floor presidential suite. Curiously, there was no button for the thirteenth floor, then Nooch remembered what his father had told him long ago - that many modern skyscrapers were built with the thirteenth floor being omitted from the elevator listing, out of superstition of the number thirteen. Nooch's eyes widened even further as the assistant took two keycards out, handing one to the recruit, then taking her own and inserting it into the slot on the panel.

Each card had the number 13 printed on it in sharp, black lettering. "Thirteenth floor? But it's not listed - "

"It exists," the woman replied curtly. "The thirteenth floor houses the Department of Administrative Research."

Suddenly, the light dawned. "Ohh..."   A secret floor!  _Of course_.  Nooch tried to curtail his puppy-like excitement, it was clearly an irritant to this no-nonsense assistant.

* * *

 

They reached the thirteenth floor, and the first thing Nooch noticed was how much nicer it was than the other floors. The whole building was nicely appointed, but this floor was something else. The main area off the elevators housed an all-around fireplace, a semi-circle of couches, and an array of pinball machines, video games, and televisions. On the side was an alcove, and through that was a room with a bar and a kitchen area. On the opposite side was a pool table, foosball, and air hockey.

"Is this the recreation area?" Nooch inquired. The woman shook her head.

"This is the Turks' lounge. Offices for the Department of Administrative Research are back this way," she continued, waving her hand toward the right. "Follow me, please!" The recruit dutifully obeyed, following the assistant down a small network of corridors when they finally reached a large set of double doors. "Mr. Tseng?" she called out.

"Tseng isn't here, Myra," Zed's drawling voice sounded from behind the Director's desk. "He's off on a mission with Veld, and the Commander's left me to hold down the fort…train our new recruit. As it so happens…I have a mission lined up for us already." Zed stood up, extending a hand toward Nooch. "I'm Legend…but, you can call me Zed." He grinned, chewing on a toothpick that served as a poor substitute for the cigars he normally smoked but was trying to cut back upon.

"Oh - Mr. Legend! Er...Mr. Zed - " Nooch stammered, clearly in awe of the towering Turk as he stood up. Zed was a gangly six-feet-six-inches, nearly a foot taller than Nooch.

"Just Zed is fine," the Legend replied in his soft, Junon-accented drawl. "Now...what's your name?"

"Jeremiah, but please...just call me Nooch?" the recruit pleaded, eagerly anticipating his training. This guy must be good, with a name like _Legend_.

"Then Nooch it is," Zed replied with a wink. The senior Turk then grabbed a garment bag that had been hanging from a hook on the back of Tseng's office door and handed it to the recruit. Nooch suddenly realized that the assistant who had been escorting him everywhere had suddenly vanished.

"This is my suit, isn't it?" Nooch said excitedly, at which Zed nodded.

"Sure is. There's a washroom at the back. Get yourself suited up and come back here as soon as you're done...and we'll get started on our first mission."

"We have a mission _already_?" Nooch was beyond ecstatic, and surprised to hear he'd have an actual assignment on his first day,

"We do," Zed confirmed with a nod, amused at the recruit's unbridled enthusiasm. The mission, such as it was, was actually something Legend had pulled out of his ass, and while it wasn't exactly something that was in the training manual, it would make for a decent indoctrination for Nooch. 

"So, you've got all your gear, looks like,"  Zed went on, nodding at the overstuffed duffel bag.  "In a few minutes I'm going to teach you how to make incendiary devices.  When you've got your first one ready, you'll plant it in a vehicle and set it.  Then...you'll have two minutes in which to disarm it. "

"Two minutes?"  Nooch's face paled, and he swallowed hard but nodded his head vigorously.  The blond curls bounced up and down and suddenly reminded Legend quite  ridiculously, of the cocker spaniel he had when he was a boy growing up in Junon. 

"Two minutes should be more than enough time,"  Zed said airily, signaling to Nooch to follow him down the corridor.   He inserted a keycard into a slot next to a large metal door that looked very much like an industrial walk-in freezer.  

"This is where the magic happens,"  Zed explained, the corners of his eyes turning up in amusement.  "Where my magic happens.  Well, you've met Reno already - he, Rude, and myself are considered to be the demolition experts of the Turks.  And I taught them everything they know, so...."   Legend shrugged his shoulders, and then gestured toward one of the stools, indicating that Nooch should take a seat.  There were two long, stainless steel worktables within the room, each flanked by four stools.  Two large tool chests on wheels sat at the front of the room, and in the middle was a large bin full of casings and scrap metal. 

Zed pointed at a locked metal cabinet in the back of the room, and fished out a set of keys from his pants pocket.  "C4, dynamite and related items are kept in there.  Got some cordite, nitro - accelerants...."   He went on and on, listing items and ticking them off one by one on his fingers as he moved toward a corner desk, grabbing a laptop from a docking station.  Zed set it up in front of Nooch and booted it up, calling up a blueprint document.

"Check out your supply list there,"  Zed's normally laidback tone turned to all business as he instructed his trainee to gather up the needed supplies and tools.  "Spec sheet is on the second tab of that document - "  The blueprint was for a fairly basic timed incendiary device of Legend's own design; he'd made countless numbers of them for use in the field, as had both Reno and Rude.  They'd done it so often by now, all of them could likely put together a bomb in under five minutes flat.

The newbie was putting things together slowly to start, scrutinizing the blueprint carefully as Zed sat nearby, observing silently.  He would not offer help; however, if things looked to be getting too dangerous, he would abort the task.   Speed in the construction of a bomb was not necessary - they were not on an assembly line after all, and precision in crafting an explosive device was a must.

Speed would figure into things strongly however, when it came time to disarm it.  So far, Nooch was working quietly and carefully, not needing any assistance except for asking Zed for a pair of needle-nose pliers.  Legend sat at the other table, drinking a coffee as he continued to idly observe the recruit at work.  He felt himself growing a bit drowsy and began to nod off slightly when a cheerful, chirpy voice roused him from his mid-day stupor.

"Finished!"  Nooch declared triumphantly, gesturing to the deadly little object on the steel work table.  Zed raised a ruddy eyebrow in interest and smiled, turning the explosive over in his hands, studying it carefully.  Any defect or flaw could result in premature detonation, which would obviously be a very bad thing indeed. 

Next, he examined the detonator, pleased with Nooch's work which appeared neat and thoughtful.  In time, under Zed's tutelage, Nooch would put these together quickly.

"Looks pretty good, pally,"  Zed told the recruit, and motioned for him to follow.  "Now we're going to arm it and disarm it.  Bring the wire cutters please.  And...we're going to bring a few of my babies."  He grabbed a small locked case, popping it open briefly to allow Nooch to look.  Nestled inside, linked together by a single fuse, were twelve small bombs, their casings a matte black metal. They looked like tiny chocobo eggs, Nooch mused, peering to get a closer look.

“Wow.”

"These are chain bombs, each powered by a Mako fuel cell,"  Zed explained.  "They're kind of my specialty.  I make them in multiples of three - generally speaking, a dozen to a chain, though I sometimes make sets of three or six for personal use."   Nooch's eyes widened, wondering exactly what Zed meant by _personal use_ , but he hesitated in asking. 

"They're even smaller than the one I made,"  Nooch let out a small gasp, admiration apparent in his tone. “These…wow. They’re _perfect_. How – how are they wired?” he asked.  "How did you _do_ this, Zed?" 

 Zed smiled and closed the case, snapping the latches shut.   “Someday I’ll show you,” he promised.   “We’ll detonate these after you set the bomb at our target. Now….let’s put your new baby into action, hmm? Follow me.”   Zed snapped his fingers in the air and Nooch was mildly embarrassed at how quickly his heels clicked together, almost standing at attention like a good little soldier. 

"Ah, yes, sir!"   Nooch was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as they readied their gear and supplies.  They piled into the service elevator with Zed selecting the button for the basement level.  This perked Nooch's interest considerably.  What was in the basement of Shinra Headquarters?   

"Sir?  May I ask...what is our target?"  Nooch asked politely,  brushing a few stray blond curls out of his eyes as he peered up at Zed.

"Oh...we're heading to the basement parking level,"  Zed replied nonchalantly.  He cracked his neck to the side, relieving the stiffness with a resounding pop.  "Our actual target is the president's limousine."

"The president's _what_?"  Nooch gasped.  The elevator doors opened and Zed marched right on out, long legs carrying him in a quick stride that Nooch was struggling to keep up with, dwarfing the senior Turk by about a foot in height differential.   "Sir - I mean, Zed - is this a good idea?  What if something, erm....happens?"

Zed stopped mid-stride, pausing and turning to look at Nooch with a bemused grin.  "Well, that'll be your job to make sure nothing bad _happens_ , right?  What better incentive could you have to disarm a bomb properly and quickly, than trying to avoid blowing up President Shinra's car?"

Nooch swallowed audibly, blinking.  Was this guy _serious_? 

"Wait, ah - nobody's going to be in the limousine, are they?"    Now Nooch was convinced that Legend was not merely reckless, he was _insane_.  And quite possibly had a death wish.

Zed laughed uproariously, the sounding echoing off of the concrete pylons of the basement parking area.

"No...nobody will be _in_ the limousine,"  he replied, still chuckling.  "Now don't worry.  Here it is - "  Zed gestured, indicating the sleek, black, oversized vehicle, adorned with little flags that bore the Shinra logo.  Zed walked around the car, pointing out to Nooch the best places for placing the device.  The recruit knelt down and reached behind the wheel well, eyes narrowing as he felt around for a spot where his bomb would stay without falling.

"You'll get a better blast radius if you put it down over here - "  Zed pointed, and Nooch's eyes widened even more.

"But, Zed - we don't want to blow it up....right?  _Right_?"   Nooch felt somewhat frantic now, could Legend possibly be setting him up?  Or was he just the grandmaster of colossally bad ideas?

"As I said earlier....the object is to disarm the device in enough time so as not to blow up either President Shinra's limousine, or ourselves."    Legend stated very firmly, holding back a smirk.

"Okay..."    Nooch uttered a silent prayer to Shiva as he pushed the detonator, an audible tone confirming that the device was indeed armed.

_Blue wire...then the green wire.  Or....wait - was it the other way around?_

"Sir?"   Nooch looked to Zed fearfully. 

The senior Turk shrugged, folded his arms and yawned.  "Don't look at me, kid.  I'm sure you'll figure it out..."

 

* * *

 

 

Several days later, Tseng burst into Veld's office angrily; the Commander looked up calmly from the stack of papers in front of him.

"Yes?  What is it, Tseng?"

"You've heard what transpired during Nunchaku's training, I take it?"  The vein in Tseng's temple was thrumming and pounding painfully.  He'd just spoken to both the newest Turk, and Legend, and though both parties seemed utterly unfazed, Tseng was still furious by what he'd heard.

"Well, nothing happened - and while I agree, Legend's training methods are perhaps a _bit_ unorthodox - "

"A _bit_?"  Tseng snapped.  "Had anything gone wrong, that bomb could have caused a lot of damage, and not just to the president's car.  Other vehicles in the same area, not to mention structural damage - people could have died - "

"But nobody did,"  Veld pointed out patiently.  "I understand your concerns, I do.  But you've got to admit,"  the Commander of the Turks chuckled.  "He did provide Nunchaku with a pretty damned good incentive for disarming the bomb."

Tseng groaned, shaking his head.  "Sure, nobody died this time,"  he said sourly. 

"No risk, no reward,"  Veld quipped.   "As it turns out - "   he looked over Nunchaku's testing scores briefly - "Our newest Turk has set a new record for disarming.  He's even got _Legend_ beat."

 "I suppose that is...something,"  Tseng conceded reluctantly.  "Nevertheless - "

"I thought it was inspired,"  Veld smiled.  "In fact...I've been thinking about giving Legend a promotion."   Tseng merely stared blankly at Veld; he couldn't think of a reply that wouldn't sound spiteful or downright jealous.

"Don't worry, Tseng.  You will still outrank him," Veld deadpanned.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Nooch was the name (not his real name, presumably) of some dude in my dorm who sold weed. For some reason I thought it'd be a fitting nickname and/or odd abbreviation of Nunchaku.
> 
> Also, this is a HORRIBLY DELAYED entry for the FF7 Fanworks challenge - second of two entries - at least I got the first one done on time? This piece did, of course, get way out of hand and turned into quite a bit more than a drabble, but I didn't want to rush through it and have it be utter rubbish. Hope you all enjoy!


End file.
